


The Fourth Wall

by kooili



Series: Meta [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Crack, F/F, Meta, Parody, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 04:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooili/pseuds/kooili
Summary: Yes, it’s a self-indulgent meta crack!fic! Bernie and Serena discuss fanfic tropes.





	The Fourth Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wonko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/gifts), [Squishmitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishmitten/gifts), [ProfessorFlimflam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/gifts).



> Partially inspired by the post of fanfic tropes that was going round Tumblr, I present to you this self-indulgent crack!fic. Done out of love. With thanks to Wonko, Squishmitten and ProfessorFlimflam for letting me reference their amazing AUs in this.

Serena squeezed the tea bag one last time against the inside of the oversized mug. It was meant to be novelty - a Secret Santa present from Fletch, as she recalled - but she found that it held just the right amount of beverage for watching an episode of Orange is The New Black. It was tea today but as the print on the white ceramic vessel declared, it could be [a giant cup of who the fuck knows](https://smile.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00882MG1S/ref=oh_aui_search_detailpage?ie=UTF8&psc=1). Strong and hot was all she cared about most days.

She lifted her mug with one hand and picked up Bernie’s smaller one with the other and padded her way towards their living room. The blonde was seated on the sofa, an open Macbook on her lap.

“Tea,” she announced, placing both mugs on the coffee table. Bernie muttered a distracted thank-you and reached out for hers, closing the laptop hastily. Serena would have thought nothing of that simple action if it wasn’t immediately followed by a frustrated sigh. She looked at her partner and quirked an eyebrow. It was definitely a frustrated sigh; Serena could tell by the way Bernie’s jaws were clenching, the corded tendons along the side her neck twitching uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Bernie took a sip of her tea, hiding her face behind the rim.

“Bernie…” Serena arched her other eyebrow and dragged the two syllables out in her trademark contralto.

The blonde stayed silent and Serena immediately searched her posture for any of the usual non-verbal clues. She had some experience reading the myriad nuances of Bernie’s moods, being the more expressive half of their partnership. Her eyes fell on Bernie’s hands gripping the corners of the laptop.

“What were you doing on laptop before I came in with the tea?”

“Just browsing.” The answer came too quickly with a tiny squeak punctuating the second word.

Serena narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been looking again, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hand it over.” The tone this time brooked no argument and Bernie sighed again, this time in defeat.

“Okay, okay. I was looking, but only a little.”

“You know how it riles you up,” Serena chastised fondly, plucking the Macbook from Bernie’s hands and flipping it open. “What was it this time?”

Bernie mumbled her response. “The bed-sharing thing. Again.”

Serena’s face lit up in curious delight. “Ooh, where? No, let me guess... a conference somewhere and they forgot to book a second room. Or stuck in bad weather and it’s the best way to create some body heat.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“No. It’s one where you get hammered on a gallon of Shiraz and I am drowning my unrequited love for you in single malt whisky and we fell drunk into bed together.”

“Ah, that one.” Serena nodded knowingly. “It’s a wonder we’re not full-fledged alcoholics by now.”

“I know, right? Who gets drunk glugging single malt whisky anyway? And just because I ordered whisky once, I get stuck with it every single time. I prefer a good Sauvignon Blanc any day, thank you very much,” Bernie huffed.

“Aww, my big macho army medic.”

“Don’t you start.”

“What?” Serena quirked her arched eyebrow.

“I would have preferred the most fantastic, fearless doctor. Has a better ring to it don’t you think?”

“Oh yes. Alliterative.”

Bernie flashed her grateful smile. “I’m glad you agree.”

“Of course I do. We’re made for each other. Similar interests, intelligent professional women with spuds as ex-husbands.”

“Hah! You couldn’t tell that from some of the stuff here.” Bernie took the laptop off Serena and typed something into the search box. Her face lit up when she found what she was looking for. “Look at this one.” Bernie handed the device back to her wife.

Serena glanced at the title. “I don’t understand the appeal of writing us based on a song title.”

“Oh it gets better.” Bernie leaned over and scrolled the screen to the section she wanted. “Not only are we mooning over each other at work, they’ve dragged Fletch, Raf and Morven into it as well.”

Serena looked up in disbelief. “We needed all their help to figure out that we like each other?”

Bernie snorted and nodded. She received a comforting pat on her hand as Serena clicked back to the piece of work that had started this whole conversation. “At least we got to share a bed in this one within,” Serena squinted at screen, “five thousand words. That’s not bad going. Better than that one time when we were barely holding hands after fifty thousand words.” She shuddered.

Bernie nodded in empathy. “I know, right? I may have the good old fashioned British reserve but have they seen the way you look?”

“You know they have,” Serena purred. “You have to admit it was fun trying some of their suggestions in bed.”

Bernie grinned, rakishly. “Well, the ones that were anatomically possible, anyway. Army training or not, I’m not a contortionist by any means.”

“And I’m pretty sure we’re not going to try up against the wall again. My back still hurts just thinking about it.” Serena winced at the memory of that particular debacle.

“Nor most of the outdoor shenanigans,” Bernie reminded her. “Don’t they know that sand gets _everywhere_?”

They both chuckled out loud.

“I definitely prefer indoors. And in a bed where it’s nice and comfy. Wouldn’t want to ruin the silk lingerie, after all.”

Bernie rolled her eyes. “At least you get silk. I’m stuck with boring cotton knickers every single time. Why wouldn’t I like fancy underwear?”

 _“I_ like you in fancy underwear.” Serena sidled a little closer, closing the laptop and propping it up against the side of the coffee table. “But I like you better out of it.” She teased huskily.

“I’m definitely in favour of all the sex but...” Bernie trailed off and staring at the grain of the coffee table in the hope of finding the words she was searching for written there.

“But what?” Serena prodded.

“Just thinking of some of the more dodgy descriptions of our, erm, lady parts,” Bernie finally mumbled.

“For goodness sake Bernie, we’re medical doctors and married middle-aged women who love women. You can just say vagina, you know.”

Bernie nodded sheepishly. “You’re right. A little clinical but definitely much less squelchy than some of the other choice phrases they’ve come up with.”

Serena groaned. “Tell me about it. I think I’ve been put off moist chocolate cake for life. Natural lubrication has its benefits but gushing and getting drenched? Have these people not googled menopause?

“And no offence Serena, but if I have to delve into your silky folds one more time…” Bernie groaned. “It makes it sound like spelunking, doesn’t it?”

Serena twisted her lips and racked her memory. “I remember one where I was tenderly ministrating and laving your core.”

“Core?” Bernie screwed up her face.

Serena sighed. “At least it’s better than the other C word.”

Bernie frowned. “Cunt?”

“No, clunge.” Serena couldn’t help the shudder in her voice and Bernie squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head in an attempt to dislodge that syllable out of it.

“You know,” Serena dropped her voice its lowest register. “All this talk about sex has got me a bit worked up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Ms Campbell?”

Serena grinned as she stood and pulled Bernie up onto her feet. “Of course, why do you think I’m wearing your favourite orange blouse?”

“What shall we be tonight? West End actresses? A Wild West Sheriff and a saloon owner? A super flexi physiotherapist and her grumpy client?” Bernie perked up with interest at the suggestion of sexy role-play shenanigans.

“I’ve already told you, darling. There isn’t enough wardrobe space for all those costumes. And besides, you know how much I enjoy peeling those skinny jeans off you.” Serena’s voice was now so rough it mirrored sandpaper rubbing against gravel.

Bernie’s dark eyes darkened even further with desire. “I suppose we should test out the thing you bought off a suggestion. You know, the purple one.”

Serena needed no further encouragement as she practically dragged Bernie into the hallway.

“Now, darling, do you want to carry me up the stairs?”

Bernie gave her a look of disbelief. “Much as I would like to, my love, I don’t think that old C5-C6 injury will thank me for it.”


End file.
